Bonds So Strong
by WhispertheWolf
Summary: <html><head></head>Oneshot: Pydge has temporarily run away from home and returned to one of the most dangerous places on Atmos . . . for what?</html>


Author's Notes: For those of you about to read, you'll have to think back to Episode 36, "Scout's Honor." You'll remember Griffin, the athletic young Merb; Owlsley, who was into gadgets and machines; and Pydge, who would talk to animals. Fanfiction's character choices are not complete enough to include Pydge, but just so you all know, Pydge is the main character . . . well, one of them, anyway.

Disclaimer: All characters, location, and references to past events in the following story belong in _Storm Hawks_, a TV series belonging to Nerd Corps. In other words, me own nothing! No sue me!

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><p><em><strong>Storm Hawks—Bonds So Strong<strong>_

_**By WhispertheWolf**_

Pydge kept running through the swamp. He didn't want to think about what he saw doing. Not now.

He will never know exactly what drove him here. From the beginning of time, humanoids have tried to understand the sort of bond he'd experienced. But many could not.

He stopped and put his hands on his knees, huffing. When his parents realized he had left, they were going to be so angry. If they ever realized where he'd gone, they'd kill him. But Pydge hoped to get back before they realized he was gone, although he doubted he could. Terra Gruesomous was certainly not the place to run away to, and it was not an easy distance to Terra Merbia.

The young Merb heard a rustling the bushes up ahead. Interested, he pricked his ears forward. _Please,_ he thought. _Please be him!_

A bog howler burst through the undergrowth. It narrowed its red eyes at Pydge and growled, low and angry.

Pydge backed away. This was not who he had been looking for.

The howler approached, growling angrily. For the first time, Pydge thought he'd made a huge mistake in coming here.

The beast moved toward him slowly, like any controlled predator. His breath was fowl, his blue fur long and thick, his head as heavy as a bison's. The green swamp goo that bunched in his thick neck muscles made him all the more disgusting.

But then the howler raised his head and sniffed the air. With an insulted growl, he spun away from Pydge and peered off in another direction. He pounded his fists and against the ground and roared a territorial call.

At that moment, another male, large and menacing as this one, rushed out of the bushes and knocked the first howler down.

Pydge scrambled back and went to hide behind a rock, daring only to peer over the top as the howlers erupted in a furious territorial battle. _Please,_ Pydge thought desperately. _Please let him win!_

The second howler finally caught the first howler by surprise. When they were reared up on their legs, grasping each other's shoulders, he suddenly dropped and knocked the first howler's legs out from under him. Pydge watched in horror as the triumphant bog howler raised himself on his legs over his fallen opponent, as if to crush him under his weight.

But he did not. His fists landed on the ground in front of him, just inches from his rival's head. Angrily, he snorted in the other's face.

Terrified, the first howler rolled over and took off charging into the woods, away from the other.

The triumphant bog howler turned away, his head held high with pride, his horns gleaming in the light. His muscles rippled under his blue fur. His eyes gleamed with an arrogant light.

Whereas the first howler had appeared grotesque, for Pydge there could be nothing more majestic than the howler before him now.

Heart pounding but feeling braver with each step, Pydge crept out from behind the rock until he came to stand beside it. "Hey," he greeted the howler.

Unlike the first one, this howler showed no aggression toward Pydge. He pricked his long ears toward him, looking interested. His nostrils sucked in his scent.

Pydge approached him slowly. "You remember me," he whispered.

The howler snorted, shaking his shaggy head as if to rid himself of a fly. His eyes shined with mistrust, and he backed away one step, his lip curling threateningly.

Pydge stopped. This wouldn't do. Quietly he began to whisper, making only slight sounds and murmurs understood only to a bog howler.

The howler pricked his ears forward again, his snarl leaving him. Looking curious, he took another step toward Pydge, letting out a rumble that sounded pleased, as if greeting an old friend he had just now recognized.

Pydge cautiously took a step toward the howler, then another. Hesitantly he reached his hand up to the howler.

The howler stepped toward him as well. He bowed his large, shaggy head until his nose was only inches from the boy's hand. Then with one small movement, he shoved his nose toward the hand.

Pydge sucked in a breath, feeling the scaly snout under his hand. Gently he ran his hand up until he found the furry muzzle and slowly ran his fingers through it, petting, stroking. The howler didn't seem to mind but only rumbled quietly.

Pydge took his hand away. "H-h-here goes nothing," he said to himself.

He went to the howler's side, gripping his thick fur in his hands. "Let's not make it like last time," he said. "We're just take it nice and easy." He took a running start, still gripping the howler's fur, and in one swift motion, he had launched himself in the air and found himself straddling the howler's thick neck.

The bog howler's breath started coming in quick gasps, and his muscles tensed. It made Pydge uneasy. "Come on, now," he said. "You remember this."

But he didn't seem to. With a roar the howler charged forward, only to buck and the rear to the sky and whirl, before pitching straight up into the air. Pydge screamed, gripping the howler with all his might with his legs and hands. This wasn't how he imagined it at all.

The howler took off into the trees, still plunging and leaping, shaking his head in aggravation.

Finally Pydge secured himself enough that he could lean forward and whisper into the howler's ear. _It's me!_ he whispered in the howler's own language. _It's still me! You remember? The metal thing that controlled you? The Talons? The way we beat them, together?_

The howler's steps slowed to a jog and then to a walk. Hesitantly he drew himself up and halted, his ears flicked back toward Pydge. His breathing started to slow. Was he remembering being ridden before? Pydge couldn't tell. But he decided to proceed as if he did. _Yeah, you remember,_ he told the howler. _Now_ _let's go real slow. Just walk._ He nudged the howler with his legs.

The howler stepped forward with bold strides. Pydge smiled to himself and then leaned to the right, pressing against the howler's neck with his left leg. The howler turned right. Pydge did the same with the other leg, leaning to the other side. The howler turned left.

Pydge smiled to himself. He could control a bog howler! And yet he knew it wasn't because he had conquered the beast but rather because the howler had recognized him as a friend.

_Okay,_ he told the howler. _We'll go faster._

When Pydge applied pressure from his legs, the howler willingly broke into a jog. The two weaved through the trees of the forest before it finally opened up into a boggy clearing.

Here Pydge let the howler go at his own pace.

The bog howler broke into a run, and Pydge hunched forward on him, tucking his legs under him and against the howler. Happily he shouted into the wind, calling for the howler to go faster. The howler responded, charging ahead.

The boy leaned his head close to the howlers, bobbing with him, moving with him. And in that moment, they were _one!_

But after some time of this, the howler slowed to walk. Pydge looked around, unwilling to believe it. The howler had brought him back to his skyride!

Pydge was smiling ear to ear when suddenly the howl bucked angrily, shaking his head. He was done. He wanted Pydge off _now!_

Pydge swung his leg over and slid to the ground. Immediately the howler stopped and turned to him.

Pydge knew he could never be safe with his friend. He was a wild animal and would always be unpredictable.

But Pydge didn't mind the danger. He had formed a bond with a creature unlike any other, and he was going to cherish it.

The howler dipped his head toward Pydge, and Pydge reached up and easily scratched his face, making the howler close his eyes in contentment. "I'll be back, buddy," he told him. "I don't know when, but I'll be back."

The howler rumbled and pressed his face against Pydge's chest before he finally drew away. Then, taking a huge breath, he plunged into the forest again.

Pydge let out a sigh and went to sit on his ride. Time to go home and explain himself.

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><p>Author's Notes: There you have it! Came to me while I was riding my dear horse Jetta Indian style! Which is no bridle or saddle, no tack whatsoever, just me on her back (and wearing a helmet)! At wild gallop, too!<p>

There's a book series I used to love when I was younger. It was called The Black Stallion series. The first book, _The Black Stallion_, I still hold as a masterpiece, but the older I have gotten, the more I see that the series as a whole as a deep insult to the nature of wild horses. However, that has no relation to _Storm Hawks_, and so I will not bother with explaining that statement. The point is, _The Black Stallion_ is the story about a boy named Alec and the remarkable bond of love he shares with a vicious, untamed stallion known as the Black.

When Herman Melville wrote _Moby Dick_, he coined the phrase "white whale" in reference to something a person seeks with such fervor that it ultimately destroys them. I think Walter Farley's Black Stallion should have coined a phrase, too. I consider someone's "black stallion" to be the animal that they have shared an unbreakable bond with. I pity all those that have never found their "black stallion" and never will. Personally I have been blessed with two: one is Louia, the dog seen in my avatar (who _is_ a black "black stallion" . . . or black-brown, anyway), and the other is Jetta, my horse (a mare "black stallion"!)

In short, I wrote this story for all those _Storm Hawks_ fans out there who have met their "black stallion" and also for those who have yet to meet them, to whom I pray that you be blessed with such a presence.


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